Читать книгу Etape. The untold stories of the Tour de France’s defining stages онлайн

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There was a sharp right just before the slight uphill. The burly figure of Hushovd lurked behind Cavendish. They go into a tight roundabout; Freire misjudges it and goes straight across the grass in the middle, but doesn’t fall. He bunnyhops down the other side and ends up back where he was: eighth in line. At the kite, with a kilometre to go, Martin leads, Cavendish is second, Hushovd third.

Over a bridge, high above a river, and it’s clear that Hushovd fancies it. He glances around; he knows there’s a climb coming; he can out-power Cavendish on this kind of finish. Watching Martin is painful: he swerves from one side of the road to the other, and, with 500 metres remaining, gets out of the saddle: one last effort.

Cavendish flicks his head to the left, glancing over his shoulder, as Martin fades away and Ciolek starts to sprint. Hushovd begins his effort at exactly the same moment as Cavendish. ‘I’m in the 14,’ says Cavendish, ‘sitting there, waiting for Tony to swing over; I leave it, leave it, leave it, then I go.’ He nods, like a football manager mimicking a header by one of his players.